South Dublin

by Ross O'Carroll-Kelly

  Pubs and Clubs

  Dalkey is known to have the most vibrant, seven-day-a-week pub scene south of the city, with most of its young people never having done a decent day's work in their lives. The rivalry between the various establishments is intense, resulting in recent years in a battle to out-renovate each other. Many innocent trees have been lost in the process.

  Finnegan's serves arguably the best pint of Guinness in the village, but is regarded as a pub for the older crowd; in Dalkey that means anyone over the age of twenty-five. When you've started getting to Finnegan's early to get a seat, you know you've reached a watershed in your life – it's time to accept that job offer from the old man.

  It took a long time for the people of Dalkey to refer to the pub that was formerly called The Arches by its new name, The Mariner and Bailey's. Many people thought the red neon In was there for the benefit of those who were too pissed to find the front door. Nowadays, In has become one of South Dublin's most popular haunts to have a drink and ogle emaciated beauties with sink-plunger pouts, mid-distance stares and cheekbones you could hang your sailing jacket on.

  Around the corner from In there's The Club, a great pub full of lively young people – and Feds. People travel from miles around to watch rugby matches on its famous big screen. The satellite dish is also capable of picking up ‘soccer’, though, this being Dalkey, there's not always a call for it. Beautifully renovated in recent years, the pub features a painting of the Dalkey coast that covers three sides of the ceiling – the village's very own Sistine Chapel.

  There's no praise too lavish for The Queens, the former Irish Pub of the Year and hangout for the biggest rides in Dalkey since 1745. And that doesn't mean a quarter to six. Securing a seat in the beer garden out front on a sunny summer's day is a reminder of what a wonderful thing it is to be alive and loaded. Sit over a bowl of mussels and a pint of Guinness and watch the procession of beautiful people pass by.

  Ivory used to be McDonagh's – The Queens’ snot-faced younger cousin – but it's recently been given the famous wine-bar make-over. Pop in now on a summer's afternoon and you'll find people eating sushi and watching Wimbledon on the biggest screen in Ireland.

  A WORD FROM OISINN

  A last word about the birds in Killiney and Dalkey. There's unbelievable rivalry between the girls in Holy Child Killiney and Loreto Dalkey as to which is the ‘coolest school’. This competition extends to hockey, debating, musicals and whose girls manage to score the most players on the Leinster Senior Cup-winning team.

  But the biggest bone of contention between the two schools is who invented the craze of saying, ‘Oh my God!’ very loudly at the start of every sentence. Holy Child Killiney claim they started it, but Loreto Dalkey insist it's theirs.

  If you were to ask me to choose a ladies’ fragrance that captures the very essence of Killiney and Dalkey, I'd probably go for Euphoria by Calvin Klein, a creamy, lush fragrance that smells of summer and sugar almonds.

  Suggested Itinerary in Killiney & Dalkey

  Get up, like the rest of Killiney and Dalkey, at 10.00 am. Enjoy a brunch of goat's cheese crostini in In, then attend a real-life property auction, watching some 25-year-old computer nerd battle it out with a wizened old rock star for an imitation castle overlooking the bay. Climb Killiney Hill and enjoy the view. Notice how peaceful even Bray looks from up there. Join a group of Spanish students on a tour of the homes – or at least the remote-controlled gates – of the rich and famous. Enjoy a lunch of pan-seared lamb's liver with crispy bacon, onion and mustard jus on creamed mash in the Queens, while ‘scoping’ some of Europe's most beautiful women. Enjoy nine holes of golf at Killiney Golf Club, followed by dinner in the Guinea Pig. Try the St Brendan's deep-fried Brie followed by the Bradan Deilginnis, along with a nice bottle of wine. Trip across to Finnegan's for a nightcap. Chat-up an authentic Dalkey honey, dropping into the conversation the fact that you've just bought the turreted mansion you saw auctioned for €10 million this morning. Suggest a late-night skinny dip on Killiney beach. Go for treatment for exposure and gangrene at nearby St Columcille's Hospital.

  Dalkey people were forced to build castles to

  defend their property from nearby Sallynoggin,

  in the years before Eircom Phonewatch.

  7. Monkstown

  Wedged between Blackrock and Dún Laoghaire on the South Dublin coast, Monkstown is where Bohemia meets Pacifica. It's a great big hunk of Greenwich Village, topped with a dollop of the Californian coast (served, naturally, with fennel bread and a rocket, apricot and pine-nut salad)… Monkstown – pronounced mink stain – is a vibrant clash of cultures, home to more surfing jocks than Huntington Beach, lots of very posh people, and a coterie of famously sullen painters and writers. Most of the wealth that does exist in these parts is passed down through the generations. Women here love to ‘gorden’, and the hedges and lawns are much like the local accents – well clipped.

  Monkstown's artists are among the most anguished in the world and it's often said that if you put them in Abu Ghraib for a week, they wouldn't be any more tortured than they already are. Thousands of tourists flock to this little corner of South Dublin every year just to eavesdrop on them as they discuss the inner torments of the artist's soul, such as how to squeeze complicated concepts into the restrictive rhyming patterns and syllabic scheme of a Petrarchan sonnet, or how to squeeze through a rear first-floor bathroom window when the landlord calls looking for the rent.

  Monkstown mummies and daddies tend to send their children to exclusive schools to learn Gaelic, an ancient, mumbo-jumbo language that's of use to absolutely no one once they leave school. When you're inheriting the old man's business, though, it's an indulgence you can well afford.

  Like most of the teenage girls who live here, Monkstown is shrinking at an alarming rate and is now no more than one square mile in area. Yet it remains

  Local artists Dave and Tom make the keynote speech

  at the opening of the Monkstown Arts Festival in

  January 2007. Since 2004, the Revenue Commissioners

  have accepted cans of Dutch Gold as a legitimate

  business expense for the area's artists.

  known the world over for the restaurants on the famous Crescent, its fine houses from many periods and the puppet theatre that – careful here – seduced Michael Jackson. The rubber-faced King of Pop once enjoyed a private performance at the famous Lambert Puppet Theatre, which featured characters from the 1970s children's show Wanderly Wagon. Jackson later admitted sharing a bed with Foxy Loxy and Padraig the Horse, but denied plying Mr Crow with alcohol and touching him inappropriately.

  Monkstown beach is one of the most beautiful in the world, its white sand and turquoise sea providing a sharp contrast to the beaches on the Northside, which are all white bodies and pink toilet paper. And Bob Marley music. None of that here. Monkstown is where young men with blond highlights and Action Man chests ride the swells or show off their skills on a windsurfer, while managing to keep their Ray-Bans propped on top of their peroxide-perfect heads.

  History

  For centuries Monkstown was a rural area of mostly pastureland and was in the possession of St Mary's Abbey until the Reformation, when, much like the Church, it underwent its own schism. Half of Monkstown decided they wanted to become toffs, while the other half – that bit referred to today as Monkstown Farm – decided they'd sooner stay the way they were.

  Monkstown has always known on which side its organic multi-seed bread was low-fat buttered. During the United Irishmen's rebellion of 1798, most residents of Monkstown went before a judge to swear loyalty to the Crown.

  There then followed 200 years in which the town became stupidly rich.

  A WORD FROM FIONN

  Monkstown Castle is well worth a visit, even though there's only a small portion of the original structure still standing. It was built in the thirteenth century by the monks of St Mary's Abbey, from whom the name of the village is derived. The castle pass
ed through various hands down through the years. After the failed rebellion of 1641, the then incumbent, Walter Cheevers, was deported to Connacht, and Oliver Cromwell eventually granted the castle to General Edmund Ludlow, who had played a key role in the defeat of Charles I in the English Civil War. Which is interesting…

  Famous Residents

  Monkstown has always been a beacon for arty types, and some of Ireland's most creative – and terminally lazy – people have chosen to make it their home. Go for a drink or a walk along the seafront and chances are you'll be accosted by a man in an Aran sweater with smelly hair, selling a booklet of his poetry.

  Not all of Monkstown's artists struggle to make the rent, though. The Edge from popular Irish group U2 lived in the town for years, and Sinéad O'Connor – high priestess of Rastafarianism and whatever you're having yourself – now calls it home.

  Shopping

  Monkstown has everything for the shopper – provided you're looking for surfboards, fast cars and expensive claret. The Crescent, the village's main drag, has no butchers but has two speciality shops for watersports enthusiasts – Wind and Wave and Windmill Leisure. Equipped with a wide range of gear by Helly Hansen, Henri-Lloyd, Lowe Alpine, Canterbury and Dubarry, for generations these two shops have been kitting out UCD students in a style Monkstown pioneered – marine casual.

  And for those who do intend coming within an arse's roar of the sea, these shops stock everything from surfboards to bodyboards, and from windsurfers to wakeboards, and even buoyancy aids – though obviously not of the type you get offered in spam email.

  At last – world-class Tokaji! A cheeky little number with a cute nose and a great body. You too can talk about wine like you want to ride it in either of the village's two specialist wine merchants: Searsons or Eno Wines. Don't go wandering in there looking for Albanian Riesling at four bottles for a fiver, though. They don't do central-heating for the homeless. These people know their oats – except they'd probably call them oaty overtones, perhaps with subtle brambly notes.

  Why not buy a flashy car? Alan Dorgan Motors is where Monkstown's daddies go to sell their two- and three-year-old BMW 3 Series 318 Ci autos and perhaps pick up a Mercedes 350 SL – the old Monkstown Runaround – for the wife.

  A WORD FROM OISINN

  I don't know when it was that CBC Monkstown last won the Senior Cup, but I know the Beatles were still mates at the time. In fairness to them, though, those goys always give you a seriously hord game – and they never give up. Although sometimes they should. I remember we kicked their orses one year and as we're coming off the pitch, one of their goys, Prionsias MacStiofáin – big into their Irish names for whatever reason – he turns around to me and goes, ‘Well, at least we're still in the All-Ireland Debating Championships.’ I think Ross spoke for us all when he weighed in with his famous comment, ‘Yeah, roysh!’

  How to Get Around

  Monkstown is reachable by road, rail and sea. The port of Dún Laoghaire is near by, connecting Ireland to Britain in just over three hours by conventional ferry and in just 100 minutes by Stena Sealink's high-speed catamaran. Allow yourself another 100 minutes to drive the couple of hundred yards through the traffic-choked seafront road to Monkstown.

  There are two Dart stations near by – one at Monkstown and Seapoint, the other at Salthill.

  The Nos 7, 7A and 8 serve the village from Dublin City Centre. The 46A also passes through Monkstown during a long and circuitous journey that also takes in Ayers Rock, Angkor Wat and the Puerto Moreno Glacier. It's the only Dublin Bus service on which meals and drinks are served and a full duty-free service is offered.

  Kite Surfing

  Kite surfing is the new craze among Monkstown's beach bums. You strap yourself onto a small surfboard or wakeboard and use the windpower from a large, controllable kite to pull you across the surface of water – at speeds of up to 70 kmph. The challenge is to control both at the same time – to steer the board on the water while piloting the kite in the sky. On any given day you'll see hundreds of young men in Monkstown, spending upwards of eight hours a day practising their jumps, tricks and turns in anticipation of it one day becoming an Olympic sport.

  In the most recent census, 27 per cent of

  Monkstown's 18- to 25-year-old males listed

  kite-surfing as their full-time occupation, while

  32 per cent listed it as their religion.

  Enough Surfish to Get By

  Surfers – or surfer dudes – have their own language, which will probably sound foreign to your ears. Here are a few key phrases you'll need to ‘catch the drift’ on the beach in Monkstown:

  Accessory man: A surfer who has everything – except an ability to surf.

  I am, like, SO amped: I'm very charged up.

  Hang ten: Hello.

  That's off the Richter, Dude: That's great.

  Banzai: A shout given by surfers as they shoot the curl.

  Beach bunnies: Good-looking girls who hang out at the beach.

  I would hate to be that good: I would love to be that good.

  Ankle busters: Small waves.

  I just caught a serious ride: I just rode a big wave.

  That was bitching: That was top class.

  Dude, you are hot-dogging: You're showing off.

  Rad: Excellent.

  Big gun: A 9-ft surfboard, designed for big waves.

  He's ripping it up: He's performing very well on his surfboard.

  That's awesome: That's good.

  Dude, you're the zenith: You're the best.

  Dudette: A female surfer.

  That guy is extreme: That guy is crazy.

  A WORD FROM ROSS

  It's pretty well known that I can't swim, roysh, although I have been known to strut my abs and pecs up and down the beach, giving birds everywhere a major thrill. I have to admit, roysh, that there's some pretty stiff competition down on Monkstown beach. Those surfer dudes, most of them look like johnnies stuffed with conkers. You'd want to go on a six-month course of anabolic steroids just to avoid feelings of inadequacy.

  Where to Eat

  Monkstown Crescent is South Dublin's very own restaurant district, with every imaginable food available – except fast, naturally. There are no burger bars here. Instead, there's Waldo's, an Italian restaurant currently satisfying South Dublin's mania for pappardelle, and FXB for those who want honest-to-jaysus Offaly beef and chips.

  Running your spoon through the seafood chowder in Wrights Brasserie is like drag-netting in a fish farm – it's stuffed full of the stuff. Valparaiso specializes in Mediterranean cooking, and their crayfish paella always has the locals dreaming of Marbella, or wherever their Continental investment property is located.

  A visit to Monkstown would not be complete without a slow browse through the shelves in Kelly's gourmet food shop. This is where Monkstown goes on a Saturday morning for its pasta and Parmesan bread sticks, chestnut spread, wine-flavoured jelly and olives the size of horses’ testicles.

  The Monkstown Mumble

  Monkstown men are so wealthy that somewhere around middle age they reach the point where they can't be bothered to speak in full sentences any more. This has given rise to a form of patois known as the Monkstown Mumble, the main feature of which is a low, unintelligible muttering sound, out of which a single, recognizable word will suddenly appear, typically a noun intended as a command. A Monkstown man might turn to his wife – or a servant – and say, ‘Rrrrrrrrr… Mnnnnnn… Arrrrrrrr… FIRE,’ which means, ‘I'm cold – light the fire.’ Or you might overhear him in a shop saying, ‘Vrrrrrrr… Mnnnnn… Wwwwrrrrr… Paper,’ which translates as, ‘Give me an Irish Times, please.’

  Entertainment

  ‘If everybody had an ocean,’ the Beach Boys sang in their famous paean to the surf-and-sun lifestyle of West Coast America's youth. Monkstown is all of Brian Wilson's most extravagant dreams come true. Sun, sea, sand and sailboarding – and not just sailboarding but windsurfing, canoeing, power-kiting, kayaking an
d, of course, surfing. Monkstown has uncrowded reefs and beach breaks with predominant offshores galore, as well as waves that hold up to 30 ft.

  Goggins is one of the best-known pubs in South Dublin. If you want to watch an Ireland rugby international but don't want to see grown men playing drunken games that involve pulling down their trousers, then this is a great alternative to Blackrock.

  Suggested Itinerary in Monkstown

  Enjoy a pot of Cubita Molida Ground and a late breakfast of organic crackers with fennel and caraway seeds and terrine de Chevreuil aux Cèpes in Kelly's. Walk the seafront between Monkstown and Seapoint. Watch a local artist draw the twin chimneys of the ESB power station or – better still – wait until eleven o'clock on Wednesday morning and watch a whole load of them draw the dole at Cumberland Street in Dún Laoghaire. After a pub lunch in Goggins, suck in your stomach and make your way down to the beach to learn how to windsurf or ride a 20-ft breaker. Go to Alan Dorgan Motors and splash out a few Ks on a Mini Cooper for your daughter's eighteenth birthday. Realize you're suffering from sunstroke.

  Mr Crow was among the stars of Lambert

  Puppet Theatre who entertained Michael Jackson

  in Monkstown. Crow has strenuously denied

  ever using skin fader.

  8. Sandycove & Glenageary